"So, why have you entered my office in this way? What kind of example are you setting for the youngins with your lack of manners?" Angel Dellamorte asked in a smooth, charming voice.
He was a handsome man in the prime of his life, with sun-kissed golden skin, black curls that just brushed the back of his neck, and sensual brown eyes framed by thick lashes.
Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, the only jewelry he wore was a heavy gold signet ring on his left pinky finger and an elegant gold watch face on his right wrist.
"You know why we're here! So just hand everything over, and we'll let you go peacefully!"
With a small smile on his full lips, Angel glanced at the four brothers spanning various ages standing in a line in front of him with handguns pointed at him before reaching down into the desk drawer beside him.
"Keep your hands where we can see them! Now! Or we'll shoot! I mean it, Angel!"
Luciano, the eldest of the four brothers, standing in the center of the group, began yelling, but Angel ignored him, pressing a discreet button as he continued to pull out a small wooden container and an antique ebony ashtray.
"Relax, gentlemen. Can't a man have a cigar as he tries to understand what's going on? Where's your honor? Your patience? Rilassati."
Seeing that Angel planned on doing whatever he wanted anyway, the four brothers shrugged and tried to take control of the situation once more.
"As long as you don't try anything funny, Angel! We've already gotten rid of your personal guards; we'll soon find that clingy second of yours, and of course, the entire house is under our control! No one will save you today!" Silvio announced with a smirk.
"Is that so?"
With unhurried movements, Angel opened the case containing three premium-quality cigars, a cutter, and a lighter, and began to prep his cigar on the antique cigar tray that had been in the family for decades, passed from Don to Don.
While he was truly going to smoke, his secondary purpose was to time when and if help would arrive.
But with no response to the button press and the fact that these four had even made it into his office without being announced, it seemed Silvio was right.
He was on his own, and one of his greatest worries had come true.
Well, since he might be the last explicitly gifted owner of this heirloom, it was a shame not to use it one last time.
Slender fingers used an engraved cigar cutter to cut the tip of the cigar, and with a practiced motion, used the lighter to toast the cigar before lighting it and taking a quick puff.
As he breathed out the smoke, the rich smell of tobacco, leather, and an earthy wood filled the immaculate study.
Leaning back in his leather chair and taking another puff of the cigar, Angel gestured for them to speak while surreptitiously tapping another button.
The more time they wasted and the more info they gave up, the better for him.
The four brothers, Luciano, Silvio, Antonio, and Junior, glanced at each other in confusion, unable to understand why Angel remained so composed despite the threat to his life.
And seeing it, Angel let out a small chuckle that seemed to set Luciano off.
"What's so funny?"
"I'm just trying to understand what you're trying to do. What's the goal here?" Angel replied honestly as he counted down the timer in his mind.
"We're trying to rectify the mistake that father- no Don Genovese made when he allowed an outsider like you to be his successor and take the reins of the family instead of his own sons! Because of you, the Genovese family is ruined!"
Antonio yelled out in anger as he saw Angel sitting where he should be if his father hadn't been a biased, doddering idiot.
"Ruined?" Angel tilted his head to the side as he puffed on the cigar, his charming dark eyes sweeping over the collection of ungrateful rabble, whom he kept alive only because of a promise to their father, before he continued speaking in his calm, measured manner, which he knew irritated those who opposed him.
Lifting a well-manicured hand filled with calluses, he began counting things off on his fingers even as his feet carefully drummed a pattern.
"The family is thriving while our competitors are all in prison, our alliances are strong, and we're making more money than ever. We're expanding into other areas and even have the mayor, the police chief, and a couple of senators in our pocket. Life is good, everyone is well taken care of beyond their wildest dreams, so why are you angry? How have I ruined anything?"
"You ruined it because you've thrown away everything that makes us Cosa Nostra! Our traditions, our way of making money, the way we operate, you've ruined everything with your modernization, cooperation, and your stupid deals! We used to be kings of the region, bowing to no one and accepting tribute! Now we have to bow to petty police force and those puny people in government instead of shoving them in barrels where they belong if they cross us!" Junior shouted as spittle flew from his mouth while his double chin wobbled.
As the youngest of the brothers, he never got to experience the time before Angel began taking things over, and always felt left out when the elders spoke about the good old days of freedom and asserting their power without consequences.
Additionally, he was the least powerful of his brothers and hated that no one took him seriously, especially because he was always being compared to Angel, who was older than him.
"And those accomplishments, that position, everything you have should be mine! My father was the Don! Why do you think that I, his eldest son, would be satisfied with the scraps when I should be at the top, huh? And you dare tell me to my face that I should work harder if I want to be the underboss? That I should fall in line with the system you set up? That I should listen to that disrespectful second of yours, who's even younger than my grandchildren? Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what to do?" Luciano roared angrily as the hand holding the handgun shook from rage or age.
It was a toss-up, seeing as he was well over 70 years of age and looked even older than that due to a life of indulging in all vices.
Unperturbed, Angel took another puff before responding simply.
"If your father wanted you to be the underboss and successor, he would have done so. The fact that he handed everything to an adopted son instead of his four sons born from his loins should tell you something. That-"
Lifting his hand, Angel pointed to each of them in turn.
"You're. All. Pathetic. Failures."
At the mocking tone, the faces of the four brothers flushed an ugly purple color.